


Septiplier Requests

by masqueradeofwords



Series: Septiplier (A New Record + AU, Requests) [3]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masqueradeofwords/pseuds/masqueradeofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What will hopefully become a random odd collection of short stories based on Septiplier requests!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What This Fic Is

Welcome! This is going to be a Septiplier requests odd collection thing. So, here's how this works:  
1\. Comment with a prompt, or something you want to see  
2\. Make it Septiplier-related  
3\. I may not take some comments if they contain something I feel uncomfortable writing  
4\. Requests will be turned into 500 to 5000-word stories  
5\. There is no posting schedule for this, it depends on the comments and my personal time  
6\. Be respectful of one another and your requests!  
7\. Take a cookie, random awesome person, because why the fuck not?

I hereby release you to the comments...enjoy :)

And as always - Mark and Jack, I would like to take a moment to respect your very real personal lives and sexualities, and say that I wish you both long and happy relationships IRL free of Septiplier harassers. Good luck, you two.


	2. Oh Shit! The Dumplings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack arrives at Mark's house, and Mark teaches him a little pole dancing. However, this leads to a huge surprise...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First one! This was prompted by Azlinne, who suggested something with pole dancing and a soulmate AU as separate prompts, and GuestIsNewHere, who proposed the combination of them. Thanks, guys, this one was very interesting and fun to write!
> 
> Hope you like it :)

Mark made ‘ack’ noises as he leaned over the sink, spitting out his toothpaste. The Youtuber’s mouth was overflowing with minty foam, and he gave his mouth a quick swipe before baring his teeth in a grin at the mirror. Fierce. Nodding to himself, Mark meandered out of the bathroom and down to his recording studio, stopping for a swig of OJ straight from the carton on his way. 

 

Jack would be arriving at a little after 3pm from an airport shuttle, so Mark decided to record a decently long video until then. Something scary? Something funny? He eventually decided on the Impossible Quiz, which would take up a lot of recording time but make a fairly short video. “Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier, and welcome to the Impossible Quiz. I know I’ve played this once before, but I gave up on question fifteen, so here we go once more!” He clicked through the first fifteen with relative ease, the answers surprisingly coming to his brain even after a week, before he hit the sixteenth question.

 

“What is a solemate?” Mark made a quirky face at the question. “The hell is a solemate? It’s like soulmate, but with...shoes?” He clicked on the shoelaces. “Yes! Ok, got it right. Next question.” The American moved on to the next part, and miserably failed, guessing all three wrong answers. “Fuck you, Impossible Quiz. Fuck you.”

 

After another hour or so of recording, Mark edited the video with a practiced hand, adding one or two effects before shipping it off to upload. Absentmindedly, as he always did when bored, Mark pushed up the sleeve of his T-shirt and traced the raised lines on his shoulder. The Youtuber had long ago given up on trying to figure out what it meant, but he would still trace his word in spare moments. It was sort of a nervous tic.

 

The soulmate word was so annoyingly vague that it drove some people to tears trying to decipher it. It wasn’t even something that the soulmate would say, just a single word clue as to their identity. Some people got lucky and had something like ‘squaredancing’ on their hand, while others had ‘boat’ on their butt. Mark hadn’t gotten his word on his ass, for which he was definitely grateful, but it was still frustratingly unclear. 

 

Cake. What the fuck did cake mean? Was he or she a baker? Would they meet over a slice of cake? Would he heroically save someone from choking on cake? Mark sighed, pulling his sleeve back down, and checked on the video. Almost done. The thing is, cake couldn’t be reduced further, deciphered, or picked apart. It just existed, the word cake, sitting on the red-haired man’s shoulder in heavy black ink or however the word got there.

 

And then the doorbell rang.

 

Mark dashed for it, skidding across his wooden floors and sliding in just before Chica scrabbled her way to the door. Slightly disheveled but blocking the doorway firmly, the American opened it to find a green-haired Irishman standing there. “Jackaboy!” he cried joyfully, pulling his friend into a hug. “Markimoo!” Jack responded, and the two embraced for a few seconds. “Come, come on in, I’m about to make dumpling soup. I hope you have no objections to that for dinner?” He looked at the Youtuber anxiously.

 

“Of course! Yer cooking’s fantastic, Mark, I’d eat dog food if ye made it.” Jack grinned, and Mark swiftly deposited his belongings in the guest room before rejoining his friend and placing the pot on the stove. “Ok, just gotta wrap up these guys, add a little seasoning,” Mark gave each dumpling a few shakes from a mysterious spice blend, “And then make sure to crease them all nicely…” Jack watched, fascinated, as the avid chef neatly made up the dumplings, then threw the rest of the ingredients into the pot along with more spices.

 

“Ok!” Mark said finally, taking off his gloves and apron. “I have to let that simmer for a good long while, and then we’ll add the dumplings near the end. Which means we have about an hour and a half with nothing to do…” What about the pole? You haven’t done it yet today like you usually do. But Jack is here...maybe we can try?

 

Mark cleared his throat. “Well, we could play something in the way of video games... we probably shouldn’t leave the house just in case. Or, if you want...I could teach you to pole dance.” Jack burst out laughing, and the half Korean’s heart plummeted. “Did ye really keep doing it after the one video where ye learned how? Because, if so, that sounds like a ton of fun!”

 

Jack didn’t mention that his mind had gone almost instantly to the word just below his left collarbone.

 

******

 

Mark had finished prepping the pole, which had involved rubbing several things on it to reduce the slipperiness. Jack looked around at the room, which was beautifully open and clearly used for this purpose. “After I learned how, I started doing it almost every day,” his friend explained, and shimmied up slightly onto the pole. Mark grasped the steel with his hands, crossing his legs over the pole, and spun around several times in a graceful, gradual descent to the floor. Jack watched in mild awe as Mark spun and twisted, seeming to defy gravity as if the pull of the Earth was nonexistent. His legs crossed over his head and vice versa, arms and legs moving in smooth coordination, and the American became a tornado moving around the cylinder of metal.

 

“Ok, want to try now?” A proffered hand, slightly red from chafing, jerked the Irishman out of his thoughts. Mark yanked him toward the pole, arranging his hands and feet. “Now just use this foot to climb up, yeah, put it right there…” Jack placed the outside of one foot against the pole and attempted to pull himself upward, barely succeeding, but on his second upward step his foot slipped and he fell off the pole, yelping. Even though it was only a few feet, three or four at most, his fear of heights flickered as it always did when Jack fell.

 

However, Mark had been standing next to the pole, so Jack crashed into him and took them both down to the shiny wooden floor. When the Irishman’s heart calmed down enough to register something, he realized that his face was two inches from Mark’s and he was practically pinning the red-haired man to the ground.

 

“Oh Jaysus, I’m sorry Mark, I’ll get off now…” Jack started to scramble off, but Mark touched him on the shoulder. “Stay for a minute, will you? This is kind of nice.” The American flushed, but watched Jack cautiously, scared that his friend would take it badly. Oh God, why did I say that, why did I say that, it just popped out, I didn’t even think about it.

 

Jack, for his part, was completely floored. Mark, one of the most gorgeous men on the planet, was asking him to keep sitting atop his prone body? “Of course,” Jack replied easily, resting his arms and chin on the American’s chest. The images of Mark pole dancing were still fresh in his mind, and he kept replaying them in his head. Why?

 

He looked down at Mark’s brown eyes, and suddenly his entire world shifted. Oh, shit.

 

Mark saw Jack visibly pale as the two men made eye contact, and he sat up with his friend still leaning on him. “Jack! Are you okay?” Mark looked at him nervously, and the green-haired Youtuber managed a weak nod. 

 

“Mark…” Jack turned over his hand silently, and showed his friend the words written in tiny script just below his palm. Pole. The American looked at it, not comprehending for just a moment, before his eyebrows shot up. “Wait...that means…” He glanced at Jack, eyes wide. “Just let me do something, okay?” Before Jack could reply, Mark leaned in and sniffed him.

 

The green-haired man smelled like freshly baked cake.

 

******

 

“So what do we do now?” Jack asked, reeling after Mark had showed him the word written on his shoulder.

 

The American shrugged. “We live, and we see what happens.” He tentatively rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. “And whatever that is, I’m glad you were here.” The setting sun streamed through the window, highlighting the two figures.

 

“Oh shit!” Mark realized. “The dumplings.”

Jack laughed heartily, and they left the beautiful room, pole gleaming in the bright sunlight.


	3. Save Me A Cookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack climbs up the beanstalk and meets Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by mew  
> Enjoy!

There was once upon a time a man named Jack who had a Youtube channel called Jacksepticeye. And all he had to live on was the revenue from the channel, so he constantly worked in front of his computer. But one month Jack didn’t have enough to pay his bills and feed himself, and he didn’t know what to do.

"What should I do, Sam? I have to pick one or the other" said Jack, wringing his hands and talking to one of his stuffed SepticEyes.

"Maybe I can go to a grocery store and get free samples," said Jack thoughtfully. "I’ve tried that before, but I’m going to have to try again," he sighed. "My only other option is to sell some of my stuff for a bit of extra cash."

"All right, Sam," said Jack. "It's a Saturday,so hopefully there should be samples,we’ll go and then see what we can do."

So he grabbed his car keys, and off he started. He hadn't gone far into the store when he met a funny-looking Swedish man, who said to him, "Good morning Jack, would you like a sample?"

"Good morning to ye," said Jack, and wondered how he knew his name. Probably he had watched Jack’s channel.

"Well, Jack, and where are you off to?" said the man, stroking his beard.

"Uh, to get some food...and a few free samples." He scratched the back of his neck.

"Ah, I understand," said the man, giving him a knowing grin. "I wonder if you know how many people watch your channel and care for you."

"Over ten million, why?" said Jack, wondering at the odd question.

"Right you are," says the Swedish man, "and I just happen to be one of them," he went on, pulling out of his pocket a number of strange-looking beans. "As you are my favorite Youtuber," he said, "I don't mind doing a swap with you - these for an autograph?"

"Sure, why not," said Jack. "What’s so special about these, though?"

"Ah! You don't know what these beans are," said the man. "If you plant them overnight, by morning they grow right up to the sky."

"Really?" said Jack, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "I’m sure."

“I’m not lying! And if it doesn't turn out to be true, you’re welcome to say ‘I told you so,’ but...it’s just the price of an autograph." The Swede shrugged.

"Right," says Jack, and scribbled his signature on a sticky note, pocketing the beans. Jack drove home, samples already forgotten, and he had spent so little time out that it was still afternoon by the time he unlocked his front door.

Sitting down, the green Irishman started recording a video, but kept thinking about the beans. Was the man lying? Could it somehow be true? Jack realized that he had been silent for over a minute, and clicked off the camera with a sigh. His curiosity was both a gift and a curse.

So Jack went out into his very tiny backyard that bordered his ground level apartment, and carefully planted the beans, watered them, and went upstairs to his bedroom. An hour later, he dropped off to sleep.

When he woke up, the room’s lighting seemed off. The sun was shining into part of it, but the other half was quite dark, when normally the whole room was illuminated if both shades were open. So Jack jumped up, pulling his pajama pants on, and went to the window. “Holy shit!” The beans he had planted had had sprung up into an enormous beanstalk that stretched up for at least a thousand feet right up into a bank of clouds. “That guy wasn’t lying!” Jack exclaimed, shocked.

The beanstalk was only a few feet from Jack's window, so all he had to do was to slide it open and jump onto the beanstalk, which was riddled with footholds and knots which were great for climbing, just like a big ladder. Making sure he had his phone and a granola bar first, the Irishman leapt out of his window and started ascending up the enormous green plant. 

******

When he finally reached the top, Jack was astounded to find a long path, winding through cloud banks and cloud bushes, that itself was made of a smooth flattened cloudlike surface. So he walked along, munching on his granola bar and staring at the wondrousness of it all, and eventually he came to a great big tall house that had a huge pink M hanging on the door.

Jack knocked hesitantly at the very base of the door, repeating it when no one responded, before realizing that no one could probably hear his knocking if they were enormous people. So the green-haired man rolled underneath the door, crawling through the tiny gap between it and the floor. When he came out on the other side, he could see a giant. 

He was as large as one would expect him to be given the size of the house, with very human features. The giant’s hair was shorter on the sides and longer on the top, with the top dyed a vibrant red. Currently the man appeared to be cooking, fiercely concentrating on whipping up some kind of batter. Jack listened to his nonsensical song as he did so.

“Ti-ny-box-Tim, I smell the taste of cookie dough. Be it raw or be it cooked, I’ll eat it to help me grow!” The giant chuckled to himself, and set aside an enormous metal whisk. Jack made the tiniest of noises, just a little giggle, but the huge man paused. “Is someone there?” He looked around the kitchen, and his eyes zeroed in on Jack’s tiny figure frozen in the middle of the floor.

The giant easily scooped up Jack with one hand, examining him closely. “Haven’t had a human here in a long time.” The Irish Youtuber gulped. “What’s your name? Mine’s Mark.” Jack blinked in surprise at how normal the giant was, replying, “My name’s Jack.” The red-haired giant asked him several more questions before he set him on the countertop and got up to scoop cookie dough.

When the cookies went into the oven, Mark and Jack talked for many hours. The larger man had to strain to hear the human’s voice, and the giant had to speak softly as to not shatter Jack’s eardrums, but their conversation was lively and engaging. With a large shock, the green-haired human realized that he had an actual crush on the giant.

Eventually Jack had to go, to record videos and take care of his channel. But as he left, he promised Mark, “I’ll be back tomorrow! Save me a cookie.” With that, Jack climbed all the way back down the beanstalk, back down to his apartment, and slipped on his headphones.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ye laddies! My name is Jacksepticeye…”


	4. Horribly Cheesy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A punk Jack meets a shy Mark in school...what will happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one done, this was fun to write! Yes, I know I should be executed for the puns...
> 
> Suggested by GuestIsNewHere

Jack leaned back in his chair lazily, resisting the urge to rest his feet on his desk. The teacher gave him a brief disapproving look, but the Irish teen didn’t care. While some people found it interesting to learn about lighting and the ideal backgrounds, Jack couldn’t care less about it. When it came to Youtube...Jack didn’t think this class helped much. Sure, knowing the technical aspect of making videos was important, but you would never make it if you didn’t have...it.

 

Whatever it was, it, manifested itself in many forms. Personality, motivation, willingness, dedication, funniness, skill, almost everything. But you couldn’t make it big on YouTube without it, Jack had concluded after watching popular YouTubers’ videos.

 

As the teacher droned on about ring lights and their benefits and consequences, Jack found himself looking around the classroom. Some students, like himself, were barely resisting the urge to fall asleep, while a few teens were hunched over scribbling notes. The green-haired youth let out a quiet snort at those bookworms, and continued scanning faces.

 

One boy at the back of the room took Jack by surprise. He had seen him before, but only in passing, and Jack hadn’t even realized he was in this class. The teen had hair strangely akin to his, dyed on top with shorter sides, although his was a vibrant crimson color. Square glasses shone under the harshly bright ceiling lights, and his eyes were a gorgeous dark brown. However, what surprised Jack the most was the fact that the American teen was clearly not paying attention either.

 

From what he knew of him, the red-haired boy was one of the bookworms, recording everything and answering all the questions that nobody else knew. So Jack was shocked to see him doodling on his tablet, looping his stylus around with an air of laziness. He was wearing a plain black T-shirt, but its fitted cut showed off muscles that Jack wouldn’t expect him to have. Also unexpectedly, Jack felt his the crotch of his black jeans become taut. Shit.

 

Zipping up the front of his Ramones hoodie, Jack raised his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?” He felt Mark’s gaze on him like it was a laser, and when the teacher nodded he practically bolted out of the room, dashing down the hallway to the safety of what he called The Bathroom of Requirement.

Almost no one was ever there due to its obscure location, tucked into a hallway opposite two classrooms. Jack found himself going there increasingly often these days, and he would hang out there for a few minutes when he needed alone time during the day. 

 

Closing the door behind him, Jack looked in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile at his appearance, which always cheered him up. The toxic green hair on the top of his head was just slightly gelled so that the ends were spiky, and although he couldn’t see it, he knew that the temporary tattoo on the back of his neck hadn’t worn off yet. Jack didn’t wear anything around his neck (he hated the feel) but sported a black hoodie, Supernatural tee, and black jeans. 

 

Jack knew that he looked like a stereotypical punk kid, but at the same time the teen didn’t care. Wearing anime shirts and painting his Converse with video games felt like the most natural thing in the world, and so he had no plans to change anything.

 

Caught in the middle of a thought monologue, Jack froze when the door opened and quickly rezipped his hoodie, trying to look like he was just about to wash his hands. He thought about humming or whistling for good measure, but decided it would be overkill. The YouTuber-in-training yanked on the faucet’s taps, heart pounding, and slammed his hand down on the soap dispenser. He didn’t look at whoever had entered the bathroom, keeping his eyes on the water spilling over his hands as splashing noises came from behind him and to the left. Jack wanted to relax and enjoy the sensation of the suds and the warm rivulets that passed over his skin, but the adrenaline rush had yet to wear off.

 

It didn’t help when the sink next to him turned on, and Jack caught a glimpse of bright red hair. Fuck. The punk boy, fighting his urge to flee from the bathroom and slam the door behind him, grabbed a fistful of paper towels and meticulously dried his hands, hoping with every fiber of his being that the geek wouldn’t talk to him. “I haven’t spoken to you much...what’s your name?” he asked. Damn.

 

“J-jack,” he answered with a slightly squeaky voice. “What about you?” He tossed the paper towels into the trash and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Mark Fischbach. Or just Mark.” He floofed his hair. “Or some of my friends call me Markiplier, it’s really stupid but you can.” The handsome boy blushed, and Jack found himself laughing. “I have a stupid nickname too - Jack Septic-Eye. I got a cut over my eye once, and it became infected, so one of my friends called me that one day and it stuck. What’s the story behind Markiplier?”

 

“Oh, it was because I’m really good at math. But it’s not my thing, you know? I like YouTube better, because you get to interact with your audience and form a community.” Mark scratched the back of his neck. “So...you want to hang out sometime? I know we’re pretty different, but I think we’d get along well. I mean, not if you don’t want to or anything, because pressuring you would be really rude, but you-” Jack leaned in and kissed him, gently, right on the lips. It lasted for only a moment, but Mark felt like he had dived into the sun, glorious and hot and impossibly bright.

Pulling away, Jack sprinted across the bathroom, and the door closed firmly behind him. “Jack?” Mark asked, bewildered, staring at the spot where he had been.

 

******

 

“Ah, that feels like such a long time ago!” Jack exclaimed, his hand twined with Mark’s as they sat on the park bench. It had been over a year since the punk boy had kissed the shy American, but it was still the most magical moment of their lives. Mark smiled warmly at his boyfriend, and pecked him on the cheek. “I was so surprised when it happened, but it was a dream come true. Have I ever told you I’d been crushing on you for months?” Jack blinked. “No, ye didn’t...that’s amazing, though.”

 

Mark shivered slightly, and Jack shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it around the shier boy’s shoulders. “So we graduate from YouTube Academy soon...are you going to attend a university and get another degree just in case things don’t work out?” Jack shrugged. “I don’t think so, YouTube is the only thing I want to do.” He grinned. “Besides ye, of course.”

 

The red-haired teen nodded and nudged Jack slyly. “Well, who wouldn’t want to?” He sat back slightly, swinging his feet. “I don’t think I’m going to get a degree either. I already know enough about engineering to get an entry-level job in that field, and...I feel the same way as you.” Mark leaned onto Jack’s shoulder, one hand gripping the leather jacket permeated with his comforting smell.

 

As the sun started to set, the punk boy took Mark’s other hand, rubber wristbands swinging at the movement. “This is horribly cheesy, isn’t it? God, I feel like an actor in some mushy love story.” Jack shrugged. “At least I can brie with ye. If we were apart, I would Swiss ye terribly.” Mark smacked him for the godawful puns, and rolled his eyes. “I ought to break up with you, but I like you too much for that. However, I demand that you buy me ice cream for that insult to cheese-kind.”

 

“Ah, sure.” Jack sighed, and the two boys started walking to the ice cream shop. “But for the record, it really was a Gouda joke.” 

“JAAAACK!”


End file.
